


Capacity of Denial

by Fox_Salz



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Gen, M/M, but nothing explicit, implied Stanchez
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 08:13:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10184804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fox_Salz/pseuds/Fox_Salz
Summary: Stanford runs into a stranger who delivers news he refuses to believe has anything to do with his dimension's Stanley.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So here's my late fic for Forduary. The irony that I was a mod and yet my piece is late isn't lost on me. 
> 
> All I have to warn for on this one is mentions of the possibility of suicide or murder. Nothing explicit, though.

When he runs into the strange blue haired man, he looks at Ford like he’s seen a ghost. Maybe he has—metaphorically or literally, Stanford isn’t sure. he’s been wandering through dimensions for so long he feels like a walking corpse.

 

“Wh-which one are you?” the stranger demands. Stanford isn’t sure how to answer, and at his silence the stranger clarifies, “Stanford or—” very subtly his fingers flex as though he can’t stay still but doesn’t want to show any weakness or threat towards him, “Lee?”

 

He’s taken aback. No one on his journeys has known him or his twin. Then again, it is a large multiverse. Perhaps the stranger has met a different version of him or Stanley.

 

Regardless, he’s eyeing Stanford warily, brow furrowed. So he holds up one hand, removing the glove and revealing six fingers which he wiggles for effect.

 

“Isn’t it obvious?”

 

The stranger seems unimpressed.

 

“You’d be surprised how many sets of you two were both born with six fingers. A-a-and that smugness is just a Pines trait. But I can tell you’re Stanford.

 

Did he sound disappointed? Not surprising; Stanley always had been more popular than him.

 

“And you are?”

 

The stranger debates a moment before replying, “Rick Sanchez.”

 

The name is unfamiliar, and Stanford feels on edge that someone should know him when he doesn’t know them. Doubly on edge that the stranger knows his twin. _Probably better than you do_ , a stray thought whispers.

 

Stanford banishes that whisper like he has thousands of others and comments, “The chances of us being from the same dimension are astronomical, though I must wonder what our relationship is in yours, since I’ve never met my dimension’s version of you.”

 

“W-w-w-” he punctures the word with a burp, “we don’t have one.” There’s a slight hesitation before Rick adds, “I knew your brother.”

 

It takes a few seconds for the tense to dawn on Stanford. Curiously he repeats, “Knew?”

 

Of course he expects that this Rick Sanchez was an acquaintance of his brother before simply parting ways as people will do. But then he notices the look on his face, a glimpse of sorrow he’s seen before—like Ma’s when Stanley was gone. Stanford’s stomach flips.

 

“Lee’s dead.”

 

Stanford feels his knees start to buckle but steadies himself as the stranger keeps talking.

 

“A-a-a car went over the side of a cliff with him in it. Everything caught on fire.”

 

“A car accident?” Stanford asks in disbelief. Out of all possible scenarios he envisioned, he had never thought that something as commonplace as an automobile mishap would be Stanley’s downfall. It was just too _mundane_.

 

Rick doesn’t say anything, fixing Stanford with a look that speaks volumes, a look that screams at him to think harder. Again his stomach lurches; the stranger is suggesting it wasn’t an accident. His brother was either murdered or—

 

“I’m sorry for what happened to your Stanley.”

 

It’s all he can think of to say. They’re definitely not from the same dimension, he’s sure of this now. But the stranger grows indignant.

 

“Y-you think yours is still alive? Someone does- _urp_ -n’t understand the multiverse very well. Chances are our dimensions are pretty similar. H-h-how can you be so sure yours isn’t just as dead, _Stanford_?”

 

Stanford’s hand goes up to where he has a picture of them tucked away safely in his jacket. As he traveled from dimension to dimension, searching for a way to undo his folly, Stanford had made peace with the fact he’d never get to see Stanley again. But not because of _this_. Not because his twin is dead.

 

“There’s no way to know for sure,” he declares firmly. Whether to convince Rick or himself he’s unsure. Either way, it’s the truth. He’ll never find a way home thus he’ll never find out if his Stanley—

 

“If he’s dead in one dimension, it stands to reason there’s one where he’s alive.”

 

“How do you know that’s your dimension?”

 

“It has to be.”

 

With that Stanford shoulders past the stranger, barely catching his next words.

 

“Good luck, Ford.”

 

Stanford turns around as Rick fires off his strange gun, and a swirling green rip in the fabric of space appears. Silently Rick steps through. For a split second there’s the chance to follow him through, but Stanford lets the portal close without him. He stares at the now empty space longer than he should. Part of him pities the stranger, part of him pities himself. A voice in the back of his mind he’s trying to ignore is wondering about his twin.

 

Stanford shakes his head and turns back around. He has a mission to complete, a wrong to right. Thinking about Stanley won’t do anything, whether he’s alive or dead. Though Stanford hopes it’s the former.

**Author's Note:**

> You know I was going to write a happy piece for Forduary, but nope.


End file.
